Just a Dance
by Catherine Chen
Summary: What begins as just a dance becomes much more. PLEASE REVIEW! Much love, Cat. Note: Exists in an altered universe with a slight Regency flair.
1. I Can Hear the Sound of Violins

He hauled her up against him. She suppressed a shiver at the feel of his hard body against hers. The notes of the violins seemed to slice through the air. She couldn't tell a paso doble from a tango or a waltz, and so blindly followed where he led. It seemed natural to let him take charge in this, her body instantly molding itself to his, her movements in sync with his, her frame acquiescing to his subtle movements, bending for a dip, spinning in a graceful twirl, allowing him to lift her. Well, the last she could not help. With his strong hands around her waist, there was no way she could offer any resistance to being displaced.

His eyes seemed to bore into her soul, through the layers of flesh and bone, as the orchestra played the last strains of the song and the dance came to an end.

"Thank you for the dance, Draco."

"It was my pleasure, Hermione," he said, quickly recovering from her use of his given name and following suit by using hers. Perhaps it was his imagination but he could have sworn the little half smile on her face had appeared after his use of her name. "Meet me outside on the terrace," he urged softly.

She hesitated. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Malfoy".

He felt a pang at her return to his surname. He leaned down and whispered seductively in her ear. "Say yes, Hermione".

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What will she say? Nothing if you don't review. I'll just end the story here.


	2. Make Me Sway

His breath was hot against her neck and she shivered in response to his proximity.

"I just...Draco, I..." she faltered.

He smiled against here neck, sensing her resistance crumbling. "I'll be outside. You have twenty minutes to decide whether or not you want to join me." His eyes glinted like pools of silver and she would willingly have drowned herself in their depths.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "Until then, ma cherie," he murmured, releasing his hold on her hand and adopting his arrogant, controlled demeanor once more as he left her and crossed the room.

She watched him exit through the French doors onto the terrace as her heart raced in her chest. Seemingly of its own accord her hand plucked a glass of champagne from a nearby serving tray which she tossed back with the calm of a debutante used to indulging herself with liquor and placed back on the tray. She waited for ten minutes, biding her time, chatting with friends and swaying gently to the music playing. Then with her waist elongated and her shoulders straight she managed to mirror Draco's earlier path without drawing suspicion to herself.

Looking around and not seeing anyone, Hermione closed her eyes and let the cool night air wash over her face. She was being utterly ridiculous in being disappointed at the lack of his presence, even more ridiculous for coming out on the terrace in the first place. What had she expected? It was Malfoy after all...

"Mmmhmmph! Mmmhmn!" Hermione's screams were stifled by a strong hand pressed tightly against her mouth.

"It's me, Hermione," whispered Draco lowly.

Hermione's body struggled desperately to calm itself. She searched for control as her lungs continued to expand and contract violently and her heart pounded against her chest. Finally, she managed to gain control over herself once more.

"Hell, you'd think you'd never been touched by a man before. All I did was put my hand on your waist," said Draco.

Hermione's eyes drifted downwards as she twisted the skirt of her dress self-consciously. "I...I didn't know it was you," she said lamely, wondering why she had to act like an idiot in front of him in particular and no one else. It would almost be preferable to be fighting with him. At least then she wouldn't find herself at such a loss for words. But then he wouldn't be looking at her the way he was now.

"You look beautiful tonight, Hermione," he said softly.

"Are you sure you haven't had too much to drink, Malfoy? Keep it up and a girl might get ideas about how you're treating her. I might get used to this and then where would we be?" she asked teasingly.

"I'm treating you exactly as you should be treated, Hermione," he said, the intensity in his gaze startling her. "You are stunning, Hermione. A swan among crows. And as to your question, we would be exactly where we should be."

"And where is that?" she asked, feigning indifference and trying to appear a woman of the world even as anxiety rose in her to hear his response.

"Here," he whispered as his lips came down on hers.

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Ooooo! I know. I wrote it. I hope you liked it. Thanks so much for reviewing. To anyone reading my other stories, I am completely serious. No updates until I get a respectable number of reviews. I am well aware of how many of you are reading without reviewing. It is rude. Anyway, that isn't intended for you wonderful people. Much love, Cat.


	3. Like A Flower Bending In The Breeze

She had expected the kiss to be rough. She had expected him to grab her and shove his tongue down her throat. But there was none of that. He held her gently, carefully as though she were fragile and precious. His lips were soft, slowly brushing against hers as though he were trying to reassure himself of her presence without scaring her off. She melted under his tender onslaught, her bones seeming to liquefy.

He caught her close as she sagged against him, hardly daring to believe that this woodland nymph was actually in his arms. Her ethereal looks had mesmerized him. He had to proceed differently with her. She wasn't just another lay. She was…special. He had never been able to figure out how anyone could look into that sweet face, all soft curved lines and fresh, natural beauty without seeing past her cold, bookish exterior. Ever since they had stepped through the doors of the school and he had seen her, he had known. No girl that he had been with had measured up to his standards. She had always been that standard against which he measured all others.

"Draco," she whispered when he finally lifted his head to begin planting kisses along the side of her neck.

He pulled her closer, though his hold was still gentle and stared down into her beautiful brown eyes. "Yes?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow at her in query.

"I…is this really happening?" Her breathing was shaky.

He smiled at her wickedly. "You tell me," he said as he returned to kissing her neck.

She arched it to give him greater access and could feel his smile widen against her skin. When his lips found her pulse and his tongue darted out to taste it she gripped his shoulders tightly, her body reacting involuntarily as pleasure streaked through her.

He lifted his head. "I won't do anything you don't want. I've never forced a girl to do anything and I don't plan to do so now. Especially with you."

"Why especially?" she asked softly.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Does it matter?" he asked with a grin, letting the dimple in his cheek appear.

Hermione straightened. He had adopted his casual demeanor once more and she was in no mood for games. "Yes. Yes, it does." She turned and began to walk away from him.

He caught her arm. "Hermione."

"You're hurting me," she whispered, though in truth his grip on her arm was incredibly light. The only pain she felt was a suspicious twinge in the vicinity of her chest.

His hold on her arm immediately loosened. "Can we talk?" he asked. "Come with me to the garden."

Against her better judgment she placed her hand on his proffered arm and walked with him down to the sprawling gardens.

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Sorry to leave things off there. I have work to do. Tell me what you think.

PLEASE REVIEW!! Much love, Cat.


	4. But My Eyes Will See Only You

He led her to a pretty fountain, one of the few gently lit areas in the garden and gestured for her to take a seat along the rim. Then he sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. "It isn't very often that a girl leaves me at a loss for words," he said softly.

Her traitorous heart leapt at his claim, but her mind reminded her sternly that he had given her no proof aside from pretty words that she was different from any other girl of his acquaintance. "I find it hard to believe it's due to any action on my part."

He seemed slightly shocked at her response.

_Had he really expected her to blush and giggle at his words before falling into his arms without any doubts about his feelings for her? Hermione wondered._

Draco stared into her eyes, but his mind seemed far away. "I guess that might be it," he said finally. "You don't try to do anything. There's just something about you."

"Such as?" she prompted.

"Well, you're considerably more intelligent than most other girls I spend time with," he pointed out.

Hermione sniffed. "That isn't really saying much."

His mouth kicked up at the corner in agreement with her statement. "You seem...real...in a way they don't. You look like a forest sprite but when I hold you in my arms, I'm afraid you'll disappear, not because you aren't really there, but because you're substantial, because if I lost you, it would be a loss, not just a disappearance."

"Is that your roundabout way of saying I'm fat?" she said teasingly.

"No!" he insisted, appalled at having possibly suggested something that could have offended her. "I...you're gently curved and soft and warm and delicious and intoxicating and seductive and..."

"Draco!"

He realized his mind had been wandering and he pulled himself back from his fantasies. "Uh...what I mean is...no."

She smiled. "I gathered that."

He looked at her seriously. "I meant that 'especially', Hermione. You are different. As you might have noticed," he said self-deprecatingly, "I can't exactly articulate it at the moment." He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "But there is something different about you."

The rational and emotional parts of her were getting jumbled. She was no longer sure what her heart was telling her and what her brain was telling her. All Hermione knew was that something inside of her trusted what he was telling her and whether or not that part of her was being naive and foolish was something she couldn't reason out at the moment. Thus, for one of the few times in her life, Hermione Granger stopped thinking and just did what she wanted to do.

_She had kissed him. She was kissing him. Hermione Granger was kissing him._ Draco's head was spinning with the revelation that she had initiated their kiss and showed no signs of wanting it to end anytime soon. Her arms were wound around his neck as naturally as if they belonged there and she was nestled against him, half in his lap as she continued to enchant him with her kisses. If he didn't know better, he'd think she had slipped a potion into his drink or pulled out her wand when he wasn't paying attention and cast a spell on him. But his feelings for her had not appeared out of thin air. They had been there from the moment he first saw her. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer to him and deciding to do away with thought and revel in the kisses of a beautiful girl.

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And we're back to kissing. I hope you liked it. I'm not done yet. This story will probably get a whole lot more intimate before it's over, but I'm not entirely sure about where I want to go with it, so that's still a question. Either way I have to get them out of this garden sooner or later. Who sets an entire story in a garden?

Tell me what you think.

PLEASE REVIEW!!!

Much love, Cat.


	5. Long Before It Begins

Draco finally surfaced from the kiss, his arms still wrapped around her tightly, but his chin resting on the top of her head as he struggled for control. "We can't continue this here," he muttered hoarsely.

"We can't?" she whispered huskily.

He looked down at her, his the tattered remains of his willpower starting to rip at their badly repaired seams as he took in her full lips, swollen from his kisses and her thick, silky hair, slightly disheveled from his running his fingers through it. "No, as much as I would like to…we can't."

She looked up at him, drowning in the heat emanating from his cool, gray eyes which seemed to gleam like polished silver. The heat of his hands seemed to emphasize the insubstantial nature of her thin silk dress, and seep into her from their position at her waist. Suddenly, it all seemed overwhelming. As long as they were in the garden, the night was full of enchantment, but was she prepared to follow him wherever he led?

"Shall we go to my room, Hermione?" he asked her softly.

Her gaze fell to their joined hands. She lifted one hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, expelling a gentle sigh.

He rose wordlessly and brought her hand to his lips. "It's alright, Hermione. I shall treasure the time I spent with my woodland nymph. We are but mere mortals. The earthly sphere cannot equal the heavenly one. I suppose I am too weighted down by worldly concerns to experience more than fleeting moments of your ethereal bliss. Au revoir, ma cherie."

Hermione kept a hold of his hand as he turned to leave, prompting him to pause and arch an eyebrow at her in question. Hermione rose gracefully and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. "Surely such a task is not beyond Draco Malfoy?" she teased lightly.

He smiled wickedly. "Be careful, Hermione. I am no angel."

She returned his smile. "I never said you had to be," she murmured, tightening her hold slightly on his arm. For tonight she would throw caution to the wind and deal with the devil.

Draco's eyes widened a bit before he nodded. "So be it then." He led her back into the house through the servant's entrance and up the stairs to the room that had been laid out for him. "Are you sure about this, Hermione?" he asked, once they reached the door.

She opened the door and smiled up at him. "Do your worst," she said softly as she encircled her arms around his neck and let him carry her through the bedroom door.

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The next chapter will be "Make Me Thrill As Only You Know How". If that doesn't keep you reading, I don't know what will. PLEASE REVIEW!!! Much love, Cat.


	6. Make Me Thrill as Only You Know How

After he says "oh" I've choreographed this so that depending at what pace you read, it should sync up with the song **"Sway" by the Pussycat Dolls**, which if you haven't noticed, is the source of my chapter titles. If you'd like to try and listen to the song while you read, feel free. If you do, be sure to listen to the version with the rhythm at the beginning. There's sort of a gasp which happens 3x to set off the rhythm. For reference, each gasp should start out those first 3 sentences, but this does not continue for the rest of the chapter (meaning each line doesn't connect to each sentence). Instead musical cues and lyrics helped me to plan out the lovemaking. If you ask me to, perhaps I'll post or send you a version where this is all explained. **Well, enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!!!**

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He laid her upon the bed so carefully that it took her a few moments to even realize that he had done so. "Draco," she murmured, cupping his jaw with her hand as he slowly covered her body with his.

He turned his head to plant a gentle kiss on her palm. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Whatever happens, don't stop."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean..."

She placed her hand over his lips. "Promise me."

"I will, if you will promise me something in return," he answered.

"What?"

Draco looked down at her, all hint of teasing glint in his eyes gone. "Promise me you won't regret what happens."

"I promise," she whispered, arching up to kiss him sweetly.

He nuzzled his cheek against her hand. "Then so do I, Hermione. Whatever happens, I won't stop unless you want me to." His kissed the side of her jaw, then began to trail kisses down the length of her neck.

Hermione shivered slightly in his arms.

He pulled back and looked at her questioningly. "Cold?"

"Anything but."

"Oh," he said simply as his eyes darkened. He cradled the side of her face in his hand as he bent his head to hers. His other hand settled on the small of her back and pulled her to him until they were close enough that she could feel his heart beating against her chest. Her bones seemed to melt under his tender but confident assault as he slowly seduced her with his kiss while his hands skillfully divested her of her dress before she even realized they had left their position on her waist.

Drawing back, Draco raked his gaze over her body with such appreciation in his eyes that she was tempted to cross the room and check the mirror to see if the girl lying beneath him was the same one she had seen reflected back at her when she adjusted her hair before leaving the house that night. "Draco?" she prompted, her face coloring prettily under his intense stare.

"Words escape me, chère," he murmured, lightly tracing the curve of one breast, with his long fingers before following the same path with his lips.

However, Hermione was not content to lay passive underneath him like some wilted flower. Twisting beneath him, she maneuvered them so she was on top. Then with a secretive, mischievous look in her eyes that he had only moments to read, she began her own seduction, allowing her breath to drift over his ear before teasingly nipping the lobe and shooting lust straight to his gut.

"Hermione," he said huskily, tracing circles over the small of her back.

"Shh," she hushed him, before eliciting a groan from him as she touched her tongue to his neck. Her pulse quickened as his arms tightened around her.

Accustomed to getting what he wanted, he reversed their positions and gently took one ripe bud between his lips, smiling against her breast as she clutched his shoulders and emitted a choked gasp. "Draco…" she cried, arching her back in response to his touch as his lips traveled from the valley between her breasts, down to the soft curve of her abdomen, and lower…

He entwined their fingers as he continued his torment, feathering soft kisses on her inner thighs before seeking the center of her pleasure. Her hands squeezed his as he slowly drove her towards completion, her eyes locking with his, trapped by the steel gray intensity in his eyes. Drained, Hermione sank back against the bed, her fingers finally relaxing as his mumbled encouragement and the sensation of his mouth and lips catapulted her into a feeling of ecstasy she had never known before. She felt winded, unsure, and suffused with so much pleasure it bordered on pain. Smiling dreamily down at him, she traced the muscles in his lean arms as he eased back up her body, returning her smile with a self-satisfied smirk of his own.

Burying his face in her neck, breathing in the sweet smell of her soft toffee-colored locks, he gently eased into her body.

She gasped at the unfamiliar sensation and the resultant twinge of pain.

He stilled. "Hermione?" he asked softly, an eyebrow raised in question.

"You promised," she reminded him.

He nodded before taking her lips in the sweetest kiss she has ever felt, cherishing, light, dissolving away any pain as he began to rock his hips against hers. In a smooth motion he withdrew almost entirely, only to thrust back into her.

Desperately she tried to muffle her moans against his shoulder, only to have him pause and smile crookedly at her. "Make all the noise you want, _mon chou_, it's only me, and trust me, I don't mind."

He withdrew again and returned, catching her gaze once more, urging her silently to match his rhythm. Closing her eyes, she gave into her senses and simply felt, allowing her body to naturally curve into his, her hips to thrust in response to his withdrawal, to acquiesce to the pressure of his. Helplessly, Hermione let out a keening wail as he shifted his hips, suddenly quickening his pace and turning the experience to one of relentless torture. "Draco, please…"

Beyond speech he simply kissed her again reassuringly, his hips adjusting to their new tempo to match his rough, hurried breathing. After what seemed like an eternity, the tension within her broke and she cried out his name as he held her close, continuing to thrust until he too was lost to the inevitable surrender caused by the passion of the dance and shouted her name hoarsely as he followed her into the abyss.

His body gradually coming back under his control, Draco managed to withdraw from her and gather her against his side. As their breathing returned to normal, he gently stroked a soothing hand over the curve of her spine, planting a soft kiss on her lips before, exhausted, they surrendered to sleep.


	7. I Don't Need a Man I'll Make It Through

You know what a new tactic needs? A new song, damn it. New chapter titles using the Pussycat Dolls with "I Don't Need a Man". Please enjoy. PLEASE REVIEW!!!

Much love, Cat.

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Hermione,

We had fun last night. Thanks for the fuck. Don't try to contact me. If we see each other again, it would be best to pretend this night never happened.

-Draco Malfoy

He had signed his name with a showy, elaborate flourish. His bold, slanted handwriting with its impeccable penmanship and clean lines denoted confidence to the point of arrogance, and she could imagine his quill moving quickly across the paper, scratching out the missive without a second thought. And she hated him for it.

Draco Malfoy had, in the space of a few seconds, with the use of four sentences, had crushed all of her illusions, destroyed the dream that had flickered to life when he held her in his arms last night, and made her feel disgustingly ashamed of herself. Now she realized why he had asked her not to regret the decisions she had made in the comforting darkness of the night. Without the cloak of the dance, the magic atmosphere that he had spun, she found herself suffused with all too many regrets.

Well, he could just shove it she thought, furiously plumping the pillows of the bed by pounding them with her fist. She took a deep breath to release the rest of her pent-up anger and let it out slowly. Hermione Granger was the smartest of witch of her age and there was no way one night of romantic drivel and overwhelming passion, no matter how much it fulfilled all of her deepest desires, was going to change that. She was far too sensible to let a spoiled dream ruin the rest of her life. No, she refused to let it ruin even another second of her day. She decided at that moment to forbid herself to let him enter her thoughts again. She pressed her lips together tightly and finished adjusting the bedding. They were at this house party together until the end of the week. Hermione had to avoid him for only five more days. How difficult could that possibly be?


	8. I See You Looking At Me

Well, I hope you all like this new turn we're going in. It's still a romance, that's my specialty after all, but a little depth never hurt anyone. Love blossoms slowly. Just give it some time. And, as always…

**PLEASE REVIEW**!!! Much love, Cat.

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I See You Looking At Me Like I Got Something That's For You

He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her and it scared the hell out of him. Never before had he allowed a girl to lead him around by the cock and this would not be the first time if he had his way. But with her, it wasn't about that. She was playing some sort of game with rules that he wasn't familiar with and for once, Draco was backing away from the challenge. He wasn't sure if he what he was willing to risk for he intuitively sensed that the stakes in this game were higher than those in any he had engaged in before. Frustrated, he drew himself up haughtily and turned away from her. He might be caught off guard but he'd be damned if he let her know it. If nothing else, he still had his willpower, damn it!

It had killed him to leave her that letter this morning, tearing at the conscience that he thought he had squashed into a separate compartment in his soul a long time ago. Actions should never be tied to one's emotions. As much as anything else, that was the family motto. It was that sort of level-headedness that had boosted him almost to the top of his class, never letting nerves or uncertainly intrude on his ability to reason and to use the intelligence and quick memory that years of pureblood wizarding heritage had gifted him with. He snorted. Much good that had done him when confronted with an aggravatingly delectable muggle who relied on her own brand of intelligence mixed with a diligence and sense of hard work that Draco devoted to things other than his studies. His obsession with defeating Potter, learning occlumency, training his peregrines…No, sheltered little bookworms had no place in his world.

Yet helplessly he found his gaze returning to her. She was sitting on a couch by the fire chatting away with two other young witches. Unbidden, the thought came to him that while the couch was fine quality Italian leather it was no match for her bright, brown gaze…especially when it deepened into a deep, rich, sinfully alluring chocolate as she was carried away by passion. He stiffened, ruthlessly suppressing such ridiculous thoughts.

One of the girls, the slender one with pale blond hair whispered something to Hermione and she turned to look at him. Immediately Draco felt pinned by her gaze as though he were trapped on a slide and being peered at through a microscope. She lifted a brow at him in query and he found himself unable to respond in kind with the gestures of acknowledgement taught to him, as was to every young man from a family prominent in society, from the time he was a boy. For a moment, something other than disgust and inquisitiveness flickered in her eyes, and Draco could feel himself grasping in vain for that moment, wishing he could have read her gaze before it became shuttered once more.

Hermione spoke to the two girls beside her and they clearly exchanged goodbyes before she rose gracefully, and began to make her way towards him. He was flooded with conflicting emotions. Simultaneously he was thrilled to see her again, bracing himself for a confrontation, amazed that the letter he had left hadn't fazed her as it had all the other girls, ashamed that he had tried to hurt her, and eager to see if he could make that light flash in her eyes again and recapture what he had so foolishly thrown away without considering what he was doing. Instead, he watched silently as she moved past him and up the stairs, presumably to go to her room without a word, without so much as a glance in his direction.

All of those other emotions now paled in comparison to the one overwhelming his system at the moment. Anger. Whether or not she knew what she had done, Hermione Granger had just thrown down a gauntlet and he accepted her challenge.


	9. You Know I Got My Own Life

Thank you for all the nice comments. Thank you especially to **kazfeist**. Your comment inspired me to write this update. Now I need you help. **Send me reviews so I can give the poor old woman a name. You can name a new character or suggest an old character who seems to fit the profile.**

PLEASE REVIEW!!! Much love, Cat

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"Why don't you go dance, sweetie?" asked the old woman kindly.

Hermione just smiled in response and patted her hand. "I wouldn't want to leave you here alone."

"Nonsense, my dear, I'm perfectly fine here with my tea. You should go and have fun with the others. I didn't invite you here so that you would feel left out," she added concernedly, her smooth brow furrowing, deepening the wrinkles that otherwise stayed hidden.

"Really, it's fine," insisted Hermione. "I'm much happier here. I'm not one for dancing."

"Has anyone said anything to you to upset you?" queried her hostess, for a moment a flash of righteous indignation glimmering in her eyes.

"Of course not," said Hermione hurriedly. "Everyone has been wonderful. I'm thrilled I decided to accept your offer to stay here."

The older woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "It's one of those damned pureblood brats, isn't it?" she huffed. "Always so high in the instep simply because they've had magic in the family for a couple of generations. Poppycock, I say. You're the brightest witch I've met in fifty years and a damn sight prettier than those purebloods with all of that inbreeding. Horrid that I have to invite them or risk offending some ridiculous connection of mine."

"Madame!" whispered Hermione, shocked but also suppressing her laughter. After starting S.P.E.W. and gaining the trust of most of the house elves one of them had told her about her kind mistress and how everyone thought she had become senile and never visited her anymore and how Yalam would be most grateful if Miss Granger would visit her and send her messages from her faithful house elf. Well, Hermione had always had a soft heart and couldn't resist going to find this kind mistress after the chaos and aura of danger surrounding Voldemort and his followers had passed with his defeat. She had discovered a proud but sweet old woman living alone in a huge mansion, spotless save for her favorite room, a magnificent library filled with numerous tomes on everything from Arachnids and the Study of Ancient Poisons to the Z volume of the Alphabetized History of All Things Magically Inclined. In the midst of the books and the cloud of the past that hung over the place she had discovered a wonderful friend.

A wonderful friend who was also very stubborn. "Go!" she said, practically propelling Hermione out of her seat with the well-meaning fluttering of her hands.

"Madame, I don't think this is such a good ide-," started Hermione before her friend began shushing her. She turned and found Malfoy's chest in her immediate line of sight. Reluctantly, she raised her gaze, willing herself not to squirm or show her utter disgust at their close proximity.

"Draco?" she queried, hoping he would just move away quickly, that he had merely been on his way to somewhere else, that he would just choke on his overwhelming arrogance and collapse at her feet, that he would remember he had to find someone...anything but...

"Shall we?" he asked charmingly, the warmth of his voice not matched by his cold, gray eyes. He offered her his arm.

Hermione looked back pleadingly to the old woman nestled comfortably in her chair, cradling her cup of tea in her hands, doing her best to look old and weary when she was really something of a dragon and a strong one at that.

"You go ahead, dear, don't worry about me," she murmured, waving them away.

Without much of a choice as she didn't particularly want to explain refusing his offer, she placed her hand in his and struggled to suppress her shiver of repulsion...or was it?


	10. Shall We Dance?

OK. This is somewhat of an introduction to the "dance" chapter. It IS a finished chapter, but the dance hasn't technically started. I do have two songs to work off of for the next chapter, so that should be up relatively soon depending on the response I get to this chapter.

PLEASE REVIEW!!! Much love, Cat.

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"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed at him angrily.

"Is that anyway to greet your lover? No wonder you've only ever attracted Weasley with bait like that. Do you glare so charmingly at all your suitors or am the only one privileged to be able to see passion for something other than dusty books light those beautiful eyes?" he said mockingly.

As much as she despised him and knew quite well that his comments could only be construed as a compliment by the most feverish of minds, Hermione couldn't suppress a tiny flutter of pleasure at his words. She ruthlessly squashed it as she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. "There is no point in us dancing together, in us even speaking together. You have made it quite clear that you have no wish to prolong our association and frankly I could care less about your feelings on the subject. I can't imagine anything I'd enjoy more than never having to see you or hear from you again."

Draco pretended to look wounded, before his lips curved into a mocking smile. "Really, Hermione? Nothing at all? You're a smart girl. I'm sure you could think of something if you put your mind to it," he murmured, trailing his hand slowly up her arm to rest on her shoulder.

She hated his smug grin. She hated his mocking gray eyes. At that moment, the only thing that could have pleased her more than never seeing him again was punching that knowing look off his arrogant, aristocratic face. Instead, she let him wrap his hand around hers and smiled at him sweetly. "I'm sure I could."

He drew himself up into the same straight posture he used when looming over those he deemed beneath his consideration yet worthy of intimidation if it would suit his purposes. Gently, his slid his arm beneath hers.

"What are you doing?" she questioned brusquely. Her voice came out more sharply than she would normally have liked it to, but as she remembered who she was speaking to, she found she didn't care if he thought her tone harsh.

"It is the formal tango hold, love," he murmured patronizingly.

She pressed her lips together in a tight line. "And why would the orchestra play a tango?"

"I requested it, of course, silly," he teased.

"Requested?" she challenged.

He smirked. "Fine, then. Ordered. What difference does it make?"

"None at all," she replied.


	11. Mágica armonía & Se elevan los corazones

So, I thought to myself, how am I going to put these three great tango songs together into an interpretable mush that can also be enjoyed by my readers. Eventual answer...I can't. But do not despair, darlings. This does not mean you don't get a chapter, but that you get THREE chapters. Yes, yes, you heard right. THREE dance chapters. I'm in a fairytale mood that hasn't completely worn off after my research paper (what a headache that was, but I got a 95), so there's a bit of that here and there. If you can spot it, I'll be thrilled. Anyway, onward for the first chapter...

**As always, PLEASE REVIEW!!! It makes me happy. Much love, Cat**

_Oh, and on that note, this chapter is dedicated to..._

_Quietrose_

_cariux5_

_And to GreenEyedBabe, I'll dedicate the chapter to you when I use your song._

_**Please turn on Como Los Nardos En Flor (used the first video I found on youtube)**_

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Draco slid his hand to the middle of her back as the first notes were played, waiting patiently for the first few measures of music to be elicited by unwilling violins, as he would have to coax a response from his unwilling partner who at the moment had stiffened in his arms. He drew her a bit closer, inwardly smirking at the fact that she could not hold herself apart from him as she so clearly wished to without appearing grossly awkward or unbalancing her weight, either way making a cake of herself.

He took a slow step forward and then a step back, not breaking apart from her, signaling her which way to move with a gentle pressure on the small of her back. He stepped out to the side and she followed. Then, she mimicked his earlier step forward and step back. "Have you done this before?" he asked, remembering how he had taken a strong lead in their previous dances.

She declined to answer, keeping her gaze focused on his chest which was at her eye level and allowing him to walk her around the dance floor. The tenseness in her body was at odds with the gentle, pleasant simplicity of the music which conjured up the image of two young lovers in a romantic garden setting, enjoying each others company and perhaps chatting idly about the weather with a subtle undercurrent of smoothness and something deeper vibrating beneath the surface. However, the precision of her movements were not odds with the violins of the orchestra and so he really had no cause to complain or to question her behavior. Having seen her softened to him, though, he could not help but desire to see her that way again and to know he was the cause. Her aloofness elicited a primal response in him to break through the icy layer of glass, cut down the protective layers of brambles and to find the prize that would await him if he was successful. Seeing her deliberately trying to ignore her desires, and playing the role of the ice queen was also oddly arousing and he knew that at the end of this he would not be satisfied with a mere kiss.

"Your steps are too wide, my woodland nymph," he murmured in her ear, his lips pressing just for a moment against her hair, his breath lifting a few wayward strands. "Do not try and flee from me just yet."

Hermione lifted her gaze to his and he thrilled at the anger burning in her eyes. Anger was passion and passion was something he could work with. The music shifted. He began to walk her across the dance floor as she stared daggers at him and he smiled charmingly at her. The music shifted again to the same cheerful melody as before, but she still did not drop his gaze. Draco found he admired her spirit. He pulled her closer still and paused for a moment in their course across the ballroom, sparing a glance and an almost imperceptible nod for the conductor. The light mincing notes of the violins gave way to full, rich legato and she had no choice but to continue to follow his lead, now uncomfortably aware of the grace of his movements and the warmth of his body against hers. If she let her head droop, it would fall against his chest and she could hear his heart beating. He continued to walk her around, spinning occasionally in a way that allowed the light fabric of her dress to caress the soft skin of her legs before falling back into place. The teasing glint in his eyes told her it was deliberate, told her subtly that should she bend her will to his as in the dance, he would only be too willing to repeat the caress himself.

The music shifted again to the same rich, sinful, somewhat sinister notes as before. Or perhaps she only imagined the sinful and sinister elements. She was, of course, drowning in the intensity of the silvery gray pools of his eyes and in her mind the orchestra had become his to command, its rhythm in sync with his heartbeat, the music rising in intensity and volume as his eyes glowed with passion. He swept his leg around so it almost caressed hers. She did the same to avoid his touch.

Teasingly, knowing she was playing with fire and at a loss to explain why she would foolishly do so when she knew very well she had spent the last few hours convincing herself it was the last thing she wanted, she gracefully pointed her foot, drawing it up and merely stepping to the side, evading him again, before returning to him in a series of graceful turns of softly rounded calves. Draco tightened his grip on her hand ever so slightly as though to remind her that as much as she teased, she was still held by him, with no way of escaping despite her tricks. He remained in control. To finish the dance he walked her back to the edge of the floor, towards her waiting friend still holding her cup of tea in her age-spotted but smooth hands.

Hermione flattened her lips into a firm line, displeased with the idea that he might think he could control her and wanting to shake both that belief and his control over himself. She leaned slowly towards him, almost as though she were moved by the pressure of a gentle breeze and parted her lips, allowing her breath to drift over his neck as he bent his head to hers. Pulling back from his loosened grip she smiled sweetly. "Thank you for the dance, Draco," she said before to the safety of her friend's side.


	12. I Don't Ever Want to Leave You Confused

They have another four days together. Listen to Last Tango by Esperanto and Santa Maria by Gotan Project and Let's Never Stop Falling in Love by Pink Martini. Which one do you want me to use for the next dance chapter? I'll use them all eventually, (YES I decided on 3 more dance chapters, they're just a lot of fun to write) so try and think about it based on what emotions you want the characters to feel and how you want them to interact. I know what I want but a few have you have mentioned dance backgrounds so I'd love to get your opinion if you'd like to offer it. The next dance chapter will be very adversarial and ripe with passion, but should temper off at the end. Anyway, on with this chapter.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!!!

Much love, Cat

-----

_Chapter dedicated to my beta, Bards of Bedlam._

-----

He entered the secluded room to find her curled up in a chair, her knees tucked into her stomach and her shoes lying upon one another on the floor beside her. Her eyes flickered with intelligence as they followed the words down the page. Seemingly engrossed in her reading material, he was startled when without looking up from the book she turned the page and asked "Yes, Draco, what is it?"

Adopting an arrogant look to hide how disconcerted he was by her cool demeanor, eyes narrowing, features contracting slightly, he haughtily countered. "What makes you so sure I want something from you, Granger?"

Doing her best to keep distance between them, if not physically, then emotionally, she continued to attempt to ward him off with her words. Hermione pursed her lips slightly and smiled. "It is highly improbable that you would have simply wandered into this abandoned wing of the house…especially when everyone else is off on a walk through the estate or riding around the countryside." He was looking at her oddly. The same predatory gleam was in his eyes. That she recognized, but there was something else as well. Something that called to her, made her increasingly aware that she was alone with him, that no matter what either of them wanted, desire hung palpably in the air between them. Afraid of his desires and of her own, yet determined not to let it show, she merely sat, her eyes looking unseeingly at the words on the page before her, waiting for his response.

"Perhaps I wanted to find a novel to pass the time? Despite the illusions you might have, Granger, you are not the only being capable of intelligent thought or at least the ability to enjoy a well-written work of literature from time to time," he drawled mockingly.

"Be that as it may," she conceded, "there is a much larger, better stocked library on the other side of the house. I have spent much time there myself. I am sure the offerings there would appeal much more to you."

"And what would you know about what would appeal to me, Hermione?" he asked softly, his voice trailing off, but lingering on her name as though unwilling to let it go, turning it into a subtle caress that sent a shiver down her spine as sure as if he had inspired it with a physical caress.

She laughed, the sound rich and full and undeniably arousing. The sound seemed to wrap around him, teasingly sweeping over him with its warmth but denying him the ability to capture it, to share in its joy. "Far from what you might believe, I do not think I know everything, Malfoy. Why do you think I spend so much time reading? The world is full of things yet to learn, and yet to be discovered. But the best avenue towards discovery is always a combination of research and experimentation. I believe I've already done a fair bit of research on the subject…"

"What game are you playing at?" Draco asked sharply, as she rose from her chair and made her way over to him. It was unnerving to see her in the role of aggressor. Never before had his prey turned the tables and begun to chase him. Seeking to regain control of the situation, he caught her arms, drawing her to him roughly.

Her smile merely widened as she placed her hand on his chest.

His grip loosened as he was slowly mesmerized by the look in her eyes, the softness of her voice. "You wear an awful lot of black, Malfoy. Look at my hand here against your jacket…it's so pale against the depth of the color. How do you manage to find such a dark black? I suppose the pristine condition of your clothing contributes to it. Do you never make a misstep…never make a move before carefully calculating it? Funny, I can't remember too many times when I've seen a single crease in your attire."

Hermione tipped her head up and dropped her gaze to his mouth. "Well, this has been very entertaining but I'm afraid I have some things I must attend to," she murmured, her breath drifting lightly over his lips, tormenting him.

He watched as she left the room, for some reason powerless to stop her. All of a sudden, his emotions rushed back as though the spell she had momentarily cast on him had been broken. Draco felt strangely unfulfilled, expecting a kiss, expecting that she had been expecting one as well, knowing that although no formal challenge had been issued, she had won this match. His brow furrowing, he ran his tongue lightly over his lips. He couldn't remember the last time a girl had walked out on him, not without him first attaining whatever he had sought her out to achieve.


	13. The Fantasy of You and Me Jai Ho

**New note.** Hi, all. Sorry it's been so long. I did warn you that I'd probably be very busy for a while. My original plan was to be very obvious but I think more highly of you than that so I went back to prom in my mind and this is what happened. I hope you enjoy it. Same deal as last time, you review and I'll try and get the next update up ASAP. **PLEASE REVIEW!!! Much love, Cat.**

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Thanks to GreenEyedBabe for suggesting **Gotan Project's Santa Maria** for the tango. Please turn it on when the tango starts.

For the music change, listen to **Jo Stafford's version of Teach Me Tonight**.

Neither of these is absolutely necessary but they're easily accessible via youtube and I think they'll add to the feel of the story as they are what's playing in my mind as the scene takes place.

-----

Hermione glanced over longingly at the entranceway, wishing she could just escape back to the quiet of her room. She had imagined another uneventful evening, but it appeared as though the dance she had shared with Draco had not gone unnoticed. Tonight she was swarmed by a group of admirers who were at the moment cajoling her to accompany one of them for a foray onto the dance floor. The last time she had been this popular with members of the opposite gender she had been attached to Viktor and hadn't had any desire to accept any other offers. Well, now she was unattached, but she still felt uncomfortable with all of this attention. Or perhaps it was that she didn't quite feel unattached. Instead, a connection that stubbornly refused to fade seemed to tie her to the one person she had the least desire to be tethered to. It was that connection that for the past few minutes had made her irritatingly aware of his presence just outside the throng of suitors, hovering like some predatory creature. The nerve of him! As though he was asserting ownership over her or some such nonsense! She weaved her way through the small crowd to him. "Shall we?" she asked.

He said nothing, only followed her out to the dance floor, smirking and shooting her a questioning look when the orchestra began to play another tango.

"I requested it," she replied simply. She took his hand in hers when he was slow to do so himself.

He walked her forward, deliberately keeping the pace slow and the movements easy, his hold light.

To provoke him, she eased slightly out of his grasp, bending her knees as though in a graceful retreat. He said nothing, but in response bent with her, simultaneously using the hand at her waist to pull her to him, the only outward sign that he was trying to exert control over her. But that was what he was doing. She was not fooled for a moment on that account. He wanted for whatever reason to convince her that he would not be the possessive, overbearing person she knew him to be. This show of allowing her to control the dance was just a game to him.

His eyes narrowed as he smiled. "So fierce, what thoughts occupy your mind for your eyes to transmit such sharp-edged glints of anger?"

They spun in a small circle, their eyes locked, opponents facing off, judging each other, weighing strengths and weaknesses. That smile infuriated her to no end. She turned her head to the side, to escape his knowing gaze only to have him exert a light pressure on the side of her face bringing her gaze back to his before bending her over his arm. Hermione tensed as he arched her backwards before bringing her back to her starting position, but half a second slower than he did so, letting his lips graze lightly and conceivably unintentionally over the skin just above the swell of her breast, her collarbone, the base of her throat.

His smile widened. "Too much for you, princess?" he muttered in a low tone meant only for her ears.

She twisted to the side, her skirts billowing out to lovingly encircle her legs before falling once more. He followed, spinning her in a wide arch, catching her when she faltered at the change in the music.

"What…?"

He kissed her forehead. "Just relax."

"I don't know how to…" she began, trailing off as he drew her closer to him.

"Better?" he questioned.

Hermione wanted to petulantly answer no but in truth, their closeness allowed her to feel his movements more instinctively and relax into his hold…which was exactly what she was trying to avoid. It wouldn't be wise to let her inhibitions fall away completely. Those inhibitions would keep her from making another terrible mistake and letting herself be too trusting once more. They had been growing closer even before this gathering and growing accustomed to having him around she had stopped feeling threatened by his presence. She had no reason to be fearful. She knew how to handle herself. Nevertheless it wouldn't be wise to discount Malfoy as a threat. It wouldn't be wise to… Why couldn't she stop repeating herself? She glanced up at him for a moment and her thoughts flew from her head so fast that she imagined she could hear the flapping of wings in a whirlwind that left her feeling quite disoriented.

The music had mellowed into smooth, velvety tones with a slight crackle from the old record player. She felt herself unwillingly softening. "I suppose this is your doing?" she sighed.

He shrugged. "The orchestra needed a break."

She made a little noise of disbelief at his casual response but dropped the topic instead of arguing further. They shifted a bit from side to side, simple enough and without a change in rhythm she was allowed the luxury of tipping her head back and just enjoying the song without having to think about where she was placing her foot or worry about being dropped.

"You should do that more often," he said softly, his voice seeming to come from far away.

"Hmn?"

"Relax. You look serene, unihibited. It suits you," he said with a smile.

She normally would have sharpened her gaze, snapped at him and ended up feeling agitated. "Thank you," she replied.

Draco's eyes widened momentarily, as though he had expected her to rise to the bait and was surprised and…disappointed?

She suppressed a yawn. Although she hated to admit it, he did have a point. She spent far too much time letting little things get to her, allowing frustration and annoyance and pressure to pile up. Giving into a whim, she allowed her head to tip onto his shoulder. His jacket felt pleasantly rough against her cheek, not abrasive but clearly a masculine fabric.

"I don't want to fight with you, Hermione," he murmured against her forehead.

She said something but it was muffled by his jacket.

"Hermione?" he prompted.

She turned her head a little to the side but kept her head resting lightly against his chest. "Well, of course, I don't want to fight either, but you are the one who just decided to start behaving like…" She trailed off when he cupped her jaw with his hand. His eyes were warm. He was looking at her almost…tenderly, when his gaze dropped to her mouth. He began to move his head down to hers and she was sure that he intended to kiss her, but her leaden limbs seemed to have no intention of trying to stop him. She felt oddly bereft when he dipped her and then gave her a proper peck on the cheek before drawing back. The refrain echoed tenderly as he left her standing in the middle of the dance floor, almost taunting her to go after him.

-----

Well, I hope you liked it. I tried to inject a little bit more depth with this one. Work with the song and try and imagine what they're mostly internalizing. I wanted a softer vibe with this one and I think I achieved what I have been trying to get for a while so we can finally move past it. I personally wrote it as the refrain taunting her to go after him just in case you we wondering. Again, PLEASE REVIEW!!! Much love, Cat.


	14. If You Can't Make Your Mind Up

Hi, everyone. I'm well aware that updates take seemingly forever with this story. You've been so wonderful with your reviews but I'm afraid that I suffer from a serious lack of inspiration sometimes which is what fuels all of my writing. You know how it is when that spark refuses to ignite. This story in particular causes many problems as I did not have a clear idea going into it and have been mainly following the characters as they went along. I've decided to put a halt to the dance chapters for a while. I will be trying my best to work my way out of the tangle that is the relationship I've been building. Although you might not like what has happened or where I plan to go, I hope you'll stay with me. These characters are part the original source and part my own conception so they might not react the way you think they should. It would mean the world to me if even just a few of you could pop on over to my Greek Mythology stories (Don't Judge a Goddess By Her Cover would be my suggestion) because they need a lot of love right now. Thank you again for your support.

***

Firstly, I would like to thank all of my lovely betas.

_______Thank you, _**Curlycurlz**_ for being the first one to respond and promptly fixing my syntax issues. Oh, those darn commas.

_______Thank you, _**Bards of Bedlam **_my longtime beta and late-night IM chat correspondent. If you read my other stories you have her to thank for me getting updates out at all sometimes. You know I love you. You give me the confidence and support to keep writing and keep striving to do better.

_______Thank you, _**Atiaran**_ for your long, in depth analyses of weaknesses of the story so far and all of your suggestions for the future. They've really helped me to grasp where I am right now and set me on the path to hopefully fixing the problems.

***

Secondly, if anyone out there would like to offer their beta-ing services, I would be happy to hear what you have to say when it comes to this story.

If not, you can always just...

PLEASE REVIEW!!!

Much love, Cat

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No, she hadn't gone after him. Thankfully, her intelligence and sense of self-preservation had finally been able to win out over her willful indulgence of her own foolishness. If this kind of chaotic jumble of feelings was the result of opening yourself up to emotion, it was incredible that any sane person would ever try doing so. After excusing herself from the ballroom, she had retreated to her room and the warmth of a mound of blankets. She was sitting up in bed, a book propped open beside her, discarded after she had found herself reading the same paragraph over and over without digesting a word of it. Her arms were wrapped around herself and her cheek was pressed tightly to her knee. Even as she did the things she did, continuing to taunt him, banter with him, argue with him, she knew, she knew that it was the height of idiocy. Nothing could come of it. She didn't want anything to come of it. Well, no, she did. And that was idiocy. Falling back against the pillows, she threw the blankets over her head and groaned. "He has no redeemable qualities...what am I doing! Why am I doing this to myself?"

Hermione rolled over to her side, contemplating the underside of the blanket while growing increasingly agitated. All the rational arguments in the world wouldn't stop her from the perverse need to response the next time he approached her. As much as she fought to silence it, something kept insistently urging that there could be something there. She could weigh the scales against him until they broke under the weight of all his cruel remarks and pettiness and superiority...but one moment, like tonight, and she was ready to start forgiving him, for building up reasons in her mind to excuse him and believe he might genuinely be interested in her.

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Thank God she hadn't come after him. Draco ran a hand roughly through his hair. If she had, he didn't think he would have been able to control himself. He stopped pacing, the sound of his shoes on the stones paving the path to the garden feeling too loud, too intrusive, too jarring. Like her. Without even trying to, she was somehow finding her way into the rooms within himself he kept carefully locked. The stores he contained within them felt increasingly unorganized and the box that was most cautiously protected was finding itself in imminent danger of being breached. He sucked in a breath and expelled it quickly. His impeccably tailored evening clothes felt too tight. Reaching a hand up to fumble with the buttons at the top of his shirt, he marveled at his clumsiness. This was not...not going according to plan. He meant to charm her and prove to himself that she had no more power over him than any other girl, but... "Damn it!" He seized the collar of his shirt and yanked it open, sending a few buttons clattering to the ground. Different, yes. She was different, he acknowledged that, but in style, not in...

He should really stop seeking her out. It clearly only caused problems for the both of them. He should let her ignore him. But then, she shouldn't let herself rise to the bait. But then, he probably shouldn't keep throwing out lures. It was her fault for...for being so... Muttering a string of incredibly creative expletives, he wandered back into the house, finding that the fresh night air hadn't done much to cool him at all.

-----

Hours later, Hermione still laid awake in the dark, her gaze focused unseeingly on the decorated ceiling above her bed. She had meant to reproach him and had only ended up back in his arms, feeling dreamy and disoriented. What was it about him? Availability? He had always been there in the back of her mind from the moment she first saw him. Her immediate attraction had been lessened upon learning more about him but he had slowly gained her admiration for his obvious intelligence, wit, easy if somewhat dry and occasionally mean-spirited sense of humor. But as often as he seemed to hover at the periphery he retained an elusive quality that made him appealing. Compiling the reasons they were suitable inevitably led to the realization that there was no hope for any relationship between them but it failed to do anything to diminish the ignition of the sparks of interest that flared at almost every circumstance.


	15. I Don't Want to Wind Up Broken Hearted

Hello, darling honeybees! I'm so sorry to have neglected you for so long. This is what happens when you lose your longtime beta and then get completely sucked into the world of Greek mythology. Anyway, I hope you like this update. I've had the bulk of it sitting around and simply misplaced it. I feel quite a bit of distance from the series which makes it difficult for me to write. Still, I haven't forgotten this story and I do intend to finish it eventually.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat

xxxxx

She stifled a yawn as she lifted her cup of tea to her lips. It was a new day. She was going to stay out of his way and resist the urge to provoke him and everything would be fine. _Right. Yes. Eat your toast._ It was far too early for anyone in the world, muggle, witch, or otherwise, to be awake but this was the only way she could have the dining room to herself. Just a few more days and she would be home where she wouldn't have to quickly demolish her plate of jam and toast and rush out to avoid being seen by any of the guests inhabiting this thirty or forty bedroom palatial estate.

She wanted to stay upset with him but it wasn't in her nature. She was the type to flare up dramatically and quickly before dissolving into sulky sullenness. But she couldn't. He was too connected with…all of this. Home was wonderful and she would love seeing her parents but once she returned she would spend her time missing _this_ world. It was still like a dream to her and because of that, she felt the need to accept all of the negatives as a condition of her acceptance. While she didn't believe that Draco's upbringing gave him the right to treat her so callously, she remembered him as the prefect who would sometimes leave his group of followers and help her stack textbooks. She remembered him making her laugh and couldn't forget the look in his eyes as he nonchalantly revealed stories about his parents. She had simply bought into the fantasy too much, collecting all her memories into a figure that was very different from the actual man. She sometimes forgot that as odd as they sometimes were to her, they were still people and not characters in some novel.

That still left a problem. _Where to hide from him?_ She'd tucked herself away in all the abandoned nooks to no avail and she wasn't about to let him indirectly imprison her in her room. _You know, it was really a rather nice day for a walk…_

xxxxx

As she strolled through the lovely English countryside, she mused on how simple her life had been just a few days ago. Life was just…funny that way, wasn't it? Suddenly, the ground seemed to tremble and she could swear that she heard…_thunder_?

That was her last thought before she was swept up into the air and…and onto the back of a huge… _Oh Merlin, she was high up_, and careening wildly as she struggled for balance, stomach pressed into a tough leather saddle. Finally, they stopped, giving her a chance to catch her breath…slowly…through inelegant choking gasps for air.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?" a deep voice roared at her.

"Me!" she intended to shout back, but it came out as more of a breathless squeak.

"Yes, you," the voice mocked. "Don't you know better than to wander around the riding grounds?"

Hermione leaned up against a nearby tree. "You…you… That does _not _give you the right to just grab people up like some kind of barbarian…"

"Would you rather that I had let you get trampled by Atlas's hooves?" he argued back.

"And what do you mean by riding that…that monstrous beast around? He's dangerous. How does a horse even grow that large?"

"Don't say that. You'll go and hurt his feelings," Draco teased.

Hermione did feel a little bad when the horse blinked his large brown eyes at her. She cautiously approached him. Maybe she had been too hasty in her judgment of…

She jumped back as the horse reared up, calming as Draco pulled on the horse's bridle, reining him in.

"I actually meant to find you," he suddenly said, once he had gotten Atlas under control. "I received a letter in the mail this morning. There was one for you as well… I assume you're aware of what it contained."

xxxxx

That's the best I can do for a cliffhanger right now.

Hope you liked it.

PLEASE REVIEW!  
Much love, Cat


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